Favors
by pinkskyline
Summary: Mickey wasn't exactly sure why he was on Fiona's list of people to ask for favors, but sometimes it seemed like Fiona would ask anyone for help if it meant getting by.


"Mickey? You there?" Fiona said.

Mickey sighed. One week out of prison and already there was a Gallagher asking him for something. He would have been happy to do _anything_ if it was Ian asking, but Mickey hadn't seen him since Ian had broken up with him almost seven months ago. Mickey wasn't exactly sure why he was on Fiona's list of people to ask for favors, but sometimes it seemed like Fiona would ask _anyone_ for help if it meant getting by.

"Yeah, I'm here," Mickey said.

That time the favor had been Mickey picking Liam up from school and taking him to Kev and Vee's—nothing too earth shattering, right?

But the next time it was finding Frank and shaking him down for Carl's share of some con they'd run together, and then he was picking up flour for some bake sale Debbie was putting on, and by the time the forth call came, Mickey felt he should remind them all he wasn't _actually_ a Gallagher—at least, not anymore.

You couldn't be family if the guy who brought you into the family didn't want you anymore.

But then Fiona said the magic word.

 _Ian_.

"Can you get a hold of a car tomorrow, Mick? Ian needs someone to take him to an appointment and he can't be on the L afterward 'cause he gets all loopy. We've tried but for some reason not one of us can beg borrow or steal a car on such short notice."

"I can probably get one from one of my cousins. Hang on," he said. He texted his cousin and secured the car, then called back. "Yep, got it. When's the appointment?"

"You're a godsend, Mick. Ian went toxic. Goddamned free clinic and their hack doctors. It was a goddamned nurse who realized he wasn't sick, his body had just been flooded with too many chemicals. Anyway, he can't take his meds until they've cleared up the toxicity in his liver and they've got him on shock treatment for his moods. Shock treatment sounds bad but he actually likes it better than the pills. Unfortunately his doctor won't let him use it all the time, just when he's not able to take the pills. You know that's how they treat pregnant women with bipolar sometimes?"

"Jesus, Fiona. I don't need to hear the _entire_ Wikipedia entry. Take a fucking breath. What time do you need me?"

She gave him the details and Mickey jotted them down. He was supposed to pick Ian and Fiona up and take them both to the appointment, but when he got there around noon, Fiona was holding a miserable-looking Liam's hand. "When it rains it pours, right? I gotta take this little guy to the clinic. He's got an ear infection. You mind takin' him by yourself? I wrote down the directions but Ian should know the way. He's a little down but he's not flat out, you know?"

Mickey nodded hollowly. He'd kind of been counting on Fiona being there as a buffer between himself and Ian, and now he was going to have to actually talk to his ex. Alone. For like forty-five minutes both ways. Shit.

When Ian came down the stairs, he looked pained. Not because he was in pain, but because he saw Mickey. Always a good sign, Mickey thought. Ian was pale and thin and looked more fragile than usual.

"You ready?" Mickey asked.

"Why not?" Ian asked.

Mickey shook his head. Here he was doing the kid a favor and Ian was probably going to give him attitude the whole time.

"I'll be here before you get back, but in case I'm not, he shouldn't be left alone, okay? Just—well, they'll probably tell you at the clinic, but sometimes there's some memory stuff, so…if I'm not here, just wait, okay?"

"Sure," Mickey said. He was shocked that she actually hugged and kissed him on the cheek before she left. He wasn't sure _Mandy_ had ever kissed him before, and she was his actual sister. "Is your sister like high or something?" he asked Ian after she'd gone.

Ian shrugged.

Mickey rolled his eyes. "Come on, Grumpypants. Let's get you downtown."

The ride was mercifully silent. Ian fiddled with the radio and then seemed to lose interest. He was half-dozing by the time they got to the clinic where Ian would get his treatment. Mickey paid the ridiculous parking fee and got Ian out of the car and into the lobby. Ian was no help, but Mickey found the office on the directory and took Ian up to the sixth floor.

"Ian Gallagher," Mickey said.

"The doctor will be out in a few minutes," the receptionist said.

Ian went in almost right away, so Mickey played on his phone for a really long time, went for a couple of smokes, did a bit of shopping at the shitty plaza across the street, and finally Ian was finished. Mickey had been warned Ian could have some memory loss—but he seemed pretty good at first.

"Hey Mickey," Ian said. His voice was fond.

Mickey raised his eyebrows. "You okay?"

"Just a little loopy from the sedation," he said.

"Okay. Let's get out of here, okay?" Mickey asked.

In the car Mickey Ian wouldn't shut up. "You know I used to think you looking at me and knowing my name and talking to me would be the coolest thing in the world? I used to think, what if he says hi to me in the halls? What if he smiles at me? I wouldn't say it was a crush, really, because I was really young then. Like nine. I don't think it was much more than just…wanting to be near you. You were like…electric. Like a legend. Like so badass. I thought, if Mickey Milkovich was my friend no one would fuck with me. Life would be awesome."

Mickey rolled his eyes. "I guess you were a fucking idiot as a nine-year-old, then," he replied.

"Not really," Ian said softly. "Did you ever notice me…you know, before?"

Mickey shrugged. "Nah. Don't feel bad, though. I mostly only looked around to find reasons to fuck people up."

"I wish I'd held your hand. You know, like imagine if one day I saw you crying in the playground after everyone had gone home, and I held your hand and said that I was your friend."

"You know I'd a kicked your ass if you'd done that, right?" Mickey asked.

"Maybe. Maybe we'd have been friends, and it would have saved us a lot of heartache. I think it would have been better if we'd known right from the start that we were friends, too. I mean, you're my best friend, Mickey. You've been my best friend for a while. That's probably more important, really, than the fact that I love you like a lover."

Mickey was confused. "What you talking about? You broke up with me, remember? And if we're such good friends, why haven't we talked in seven months?"

Ian shook his head. "I couldn't have. I _wouldn't_ have. Seriously?"

"Shit. What's the last thing you remember?"

"I don't know. I guess things are still jumbled. The last time my memory came back after a few hours. Don't you love me anymore?"

His voice was so plaintive and pathetic that Mickey answered right away. "Of course I do."

"Good," Ian said smugly. "So I can get you back."

"I never wanted to break up in the first place," Mickey snapped in annoyance.

"Do you want to get back together?"

"You're loopy from the sedation. Maybe you just latched onto me because I'm the first person you saw, like a fuckin'…baby duckling or some shit," Mickey said.

"Fuck you," Ian said.

He sounded hurt, and Mickey sighed and ran his hand through his hair and stopped at the thousandth red light. "I only meant…Jesus, Ian, I don't even really know why you broke up with me, and you don't even remember doing it. I'm going to guess you actually had some kind of reason for it, though, and considering that, I'm not going to get my hopes up that you mean this shit until you get your memory back."

"What if I don't get my memory back?" Ian asked.

"Why do you sound fuckin' hopeful that you won't get your memory back? That's some twisted shit, Gallagher," Mickey said.

"It's just…I don't want to remember a reason why I would break up with you."

"Whatever. Our relationship was—I don't know. It was a beautiful, fucked-up mess. I think it would be better to remember it, like, so we don't do all the same shit again. I would want to go into it with my eyes open, you know? I might even…god, this is embarrassing. But I signed up for all these programs in prison, right? Like, talk to a social worker. Go to a mental health support group. Fuckin' surviving abuse support group. GED prep sessions. I even took college courses, you know? That's why I got out so fast, because if you accept the help you're less likely to reoffend so they let you out. And I might want to like, see a shrink. With you. Because we've been through shit together that I don't feel qualified to sort through, and I think it's not doing either of our mental health any good."

"I don't want to become one of those whiny bitches who's always talking about their therapist. But if it meant being with you? I'd do it."

Mickey nodded silently. He was pretty mentally tough, in a lot of ways, but he didn't want to fall into old habits. He didn't want to drink directly from a liquor bottle at nine in the morning. Wasn't getting over that shit that messed him up, like the shit his dad had put their family through and all the messed up stuff he and Ian had done to each other, wasn't sorting that out showing more strength than burying it in booze and drugs? That's something one of the social workers had said, and he couldn't argue with it. He'd spent a lot of his life scared, and he hated it. It was getting to be, now he was a grown up, that he was realizing that being scared was worse than anything that life could throw at him. He'd been afraid of coming out, and he'd lived through it. He'd been afraid of prison, and it hadn't been so bad. He'd been afraid of losing Ian, and he'd even lived through that.

Sometimes he thought he'd rather be dead than scared.

"Of fucking course," Mickey huffed when they got to the Gallagher house. No one was home. "Where the fuck is Fiona?"

"You ever been to the free clinic? It takes a million years," Ian said.

"You remembering things now?" Mickey asked.

"I remember Fiona was going to take Liam to the clinic. I don't remember breaking up with you," Ian said.

Mickey shot Ian a suspicious look. He wasn't sure how memory loss worked with shock treatment, but he was beginning to think Ian was just fucking with him. At least if he was fucking with him it was in a way that would let Mickey pretend for a minute that Ian still cared about him.

"Sorry man, Fiona said I wasn't allowed to leave you alone until she got back," Mickey said.

"I've got some ideas as to how we can pass the time," Ian said, raising his eyebrows suggestively like the worst kind of ham comedian.

"Just get out of the car," Mickey said.

It was almost an hour before Fiona got back, and Mickey spent the time awkwardly evading Ian's attempts to come on to him or kiss him. Not that he didn't want to kiss Ian, but Mickey couldn't think of any situation in the world where it would be less cool to take advantage of someone. Finally Mickey put a movie on and settled near-enough to Ian that he could put an arm around Mickey and hold him, which seemed to placate him enough that he fell asleep.

Fiona sent Liam up to bed and walked over to the sofa. She cringed when she saw the way they were tangled together. "He been pretty cuddly, has he? That must have been awkward for you."

"That like a thing he does normally?" Mickey asked. He carefully extricated himself from Ian's arm and got up and followed Fiona into the kitchen. "How's the kid?"

"I was right about the ear infection. I don't have the extra cash for the antibiotics, but there's some bills I can put off. You gotta take that seriously, you know? Kids can get hearing damage," she said.

"How much you need?" Mickey asked.

Fiona shook her head, but she took the couple of twenties Mickey held out to her. "I already owe you. That can't have been easy. I know you've probably moved on and I don't mean to be pulling you back into our stupid shit all the time, but you hold on to the people you can count on, you know? I'm sorry. I'm used to like, Vee and Kev just being up for doing absolutely anything to help and I should just let you get on with your life."

"No you shouldn't," Mickey said. He didn't say that those few hours where Ian had forgotten breaking up with him were the best he'd had in as long as he could remember. He didn't say that he liked to be a guy that someone could depend on, even if that person wasn't the mother of his child, who barely spoke to him, but an ex-boyfriend's sister. He didn't say that Ian and the whole Gallagher clan were his family no matter what did or didn't happen with Ian. But Fiona seemed to hear it, anyhow, and she nodded and put the kettle on.

"Want hot chocolate?"

Mickey surprised himself by saying, "Sure. You got any with little fuckin' marshmallows?"


End file.
